Plays Part 46

MADELINE: He has-the wrong idea about things.

AUNT ISABEL: 'The wrong idea!' Oh, my child-that's awfully young and hard. It's so much deeper than that. Life has made him into something-something he can't escape.

MADELINE: (with what seems sullenness) Well, I don't want to be made into that thing.

AUNT ISABEL: Of course not. But you want to help him, don't you? Now, dear-about your birthday party-

MADELINE: The United States Commissioner is giving me my birthday party.

AUNT ISABEL: Well, he'll have to put his party off. Your uncle has been thinking it all out. We're to go to his office and you'll have a talk with him and with Judge Watkins. He's off the state supreme bench now-practising again, and as a favour to your uncle he will be your lawyer. You don't know how relieved we are at this, for Judge Watkins can do-anything he wants to do, practically. Then you and I will go on home and call up some of the crowd to come in and dance to-night. We have some beautiful new records. There's a Hungarian waltz-

MADELINE: And what's the price of all this, auntie?

AUNT ISABEL: The-Oh, you mean-Why, simply say you felt sorry for the Hindu students because they seemed rather alone; that you hadn't realized-what they were, hadn't thought out what you were saying-

MADELINE: And that I'm sorry and will never do it again.

AUNT ISABEL: I don't know that you need say that. It would be gracious, I think, to indicate it.

MADELINE: I'm sorry you-had the cake made. I suppose you can eat it, anyway. I (turning away)-can't eat it.

AUNT ISABEL: Why-Madeline.

(Seeing how she has hurt her, MADELINE goes out to her aunt.)

MADELINE: Auntie, dear! I'm sorry-if I hurt your feelings.

AUNT ISABEL: (quick to hold out a loving hand, laughing a little) They've been good birthday cakes, haven't they, Madeline?

MADELINE: (she now trying not to cry) I don't know-what I'd have done without them. Don't know-what I will do without them. I don't-see it.

AUNT ISABEL: Don't try to. Please don't see it! Just let me go on helping you. That's all I ask. (she draws MADELINE to her) Ah, dearie, I held you when you were a little baby without your mother. All those years count for something, Madeline. There's just nothing to life if years of love don't count for something. (listening) I think I hear them. And here are we, weeping like two idiots. (MADELINE brushes away tears, AUNT ISABEL arranges her veil, regaining her usual poise) Professor Holden was hoping you'd take a tramp with him. Wouldn't that do you good? Anyway, a talk with him will be nice. I know he admires you immensely, and really-perhaps I shouldn't let you know this-sympathizes with your feeling. So I think his maturer way of looking at things will show you just the adjustment you need to become a really big and useful person. There's so much to be done in the world, Madeline. Of course we ought to make it a better world. (in a manner of agreement with MADELINE) I feel very strongly about all that. Perhaps we can do some things together. I'd love that. Don't think I'm hopeless! Way down deep we have the same feeling. Yes, here's Professor Holden.

(HOLDEN comes in. He seems older.)

HOLDEN: And how are you, Madeline? (holding out his hand)

MADELINE: I'm-all right.

HOLDEN: Many happy returns of the day. (embarra.s.sed by her half laugh) The birthday.

AUNT ISABEL: And did you have a nice look up the river?

HOLDEN: I never saw this country as lovely as it is to-day. Mary is just drinking it in.

AUNT ISABEL: You don't think the further ride will be too much?

HOLDEN: Oh, no-not in that car.

AUNT ISABEL: Then we'll go on-perhaps as far as Laughing Creek. If you two decide on a tramp-take that road and we'll pick you up. (smiling warmly, she goes out)

HOLDEN: How good she is.

MADELINE: Yes. That's just the trouble.

HOLDEN: (with difficulty getting past this) How about a little tramp? There'll never be another such day.

MADELINE: I used to tramp with Fred Jordan. This is where he is now. (stepping inside the cell) He doesn't even see out.

HOLDEN: It's all wrong that he should be where he is. But for you to stay indoors won't help him, Madeline.

MADELINE: It won't help him, but-today-I can't go out.

HOLDEN: I'm sorry, my child. When this sense of wrongs done first comes down upon one, it does crush.

MADELINE: And later you get used to it and don't care.

HOLDEN: You care. You try not to destroy yourself needlessly. (he turns from her look)

MADELINE: Play safe.

HOLDEN: If it's playing safe it's that one you love more than yourself be safe. It would be a luxury to-destroy one's self.

MADELINE: That sounds like Uncle Felix. (seeing she has hurt him, she goes over and sits across from him at the table) I'm sorry. I say the wrong things today.

HOLDEN: I don't know that you do.

MADELINE: But isn't uncle funny? His left mind doesn't know what his right mind is doing. He has to think of himself as a person of sentiment-idealism, and-quite a job, at times. Clever-how he gets away with it. The war must have been a G.o.dsend to people who were in danger of getting on to themselves. But I should think you could fool all of yourself all the time.

HOLDEN: You don't. (he is rubbing his hand on the table)

MADELINE: Grandfather Morton made this table. I suppose he and Grandfather Fejevary used to sit here and talk-they were great old pals. (slowly HOLDEN turns and looks out at the hill) Yes. How beautiful the hill must have been-before there was a college there. (he looks away from the hill) Did you know Grandfather Morton?

HOLDEN: Yes, I knew him. (speaking of it against his will) I had a wonderful talk with him once; about Greece-and the cornfields, and life.

MADELINE: I'd like to have been a pioneer! Some ways they had it fierce, but think of the fun they had! A whole big land to open up! A big new life to begin! (her hands closing in from wideness to a smaller thing) Why did so much get shut out? Just a little way back-anything might have been. What happened?

HOLDEN: (speaking with difficulty) It got-set too soon.

MADELINE: (all of her mind open, trying to know) And why did it? Prosperous, I suppose. That seems to set things-set them in fear. Silas Morton wasn't afraid of Felix Fejevary, the Hungarian revolutionist. He laid this country at that refugee's feet! That's what Uncle Felix says himself-with the left half of his mind. Now-the Hindu revolutionists-! (pause) I took a walk late yesterday afternoon. Night came, and for some reason I thought of how many nights have come-nights the earth has known long before we knew the earth. The moon came up and I thought of how moonlight made this country beautiful before any man knew that moonlight was beautiful. It gave me a feeling of coming from something a long way back. Moving toward-what will be here when I'm not here. Moving. We seem here, now, in America, to have forgotten we're moving. Think it's just us-just now. Of course, that would make us afraid, and-ridiculous.

(Her father comes in.)

IRA: Your Aunt Isabel-did she go away-and leave you?

MADELINE: She's coming back.

IRA: For you?